Van of Valor

w/ Special tribute to Lorraine Smith and Paul Williams

Commentary by Dr. Kevin Wallace
Van of Valor

NORTH PORT, Fla. – The mission was everything. For 280 days and 27,000 miles across America, my wife Lauren and I lived in a van, driven by a single purpose: to capture and carry the stories of our nation’s most resilient heroes — 317 Purple Heart recipients, Prisoners of War, and Gold Star Families. 

It was a calling that consumed us, demanding 12 to 16 hours a day, every day, without respite. We drove, interviewed, and moved on, a cycle fueled by coffee, too much beer, duty, and the profound honor of listening.

But no mission is sustained by duty alone. It is fueled by spirit, often drawn from unexpected wells. For us, a vital piece of that spirit was a print named “Anna.”

Her story with us begins not on a battlefield, but in a moment of personal peace. Just before launching the Van of Valor, Lauren and I eloped to the Isle of Skye way up in the highlands of Scotland. It was magnificent. 

Afterwards, we took a train from Inverness down to London to see two of our dearest friends, Paul Williams and Lorraine “Lol” Smith. Their hospitality was a perfect anchor — filled with laughter, pints, and the crucial, soul-restoring distraction of several West Ham United matches (back when we were good, or at least not perpetually fighting relegation, mind you).

Lol, knowing our souls are tethered to the ocean and to each other through scuba and environmentalism, gifted us a beautiful painting she created. It was of beautiful blue and green waters, with vibrant bubbles (also a West Ham reference). It cost a fortune to ship home, but it was a piece of our hearts, waiting for us.

But “Anna” came from a different, grittier corner of London. In Spitalfields, East London, Lauren and I stumbled upon a pop-up gallery for former convicts who now use art to overcome their pasts. Anthropologists at heart (Lauren, an anthropologist in the literal sense), we were immediately drawn into conversation with three remarkable artists. They were equally fascinated by our upcoming mission, my service in Afghanistan, and my view of British soldiers — whom I consider my absolute brothers and sisters in arms.

Moved by the mission of the Van of Valor, one of these artists gifted us a print. It was a powerful, haunting portrait of a Ukrainian soldier named Anna, painted by the artist Viktoriya Richardson. Her gaze was steady, resolute, and unforgettable. We thanked them, packed her carefully, and brought her home, where she waited until we began our journey.

From Day One, “Anna” had a permanent post on the wall of our van. She traveled with us through every state, through every interview, through every mile. She was there for the highest honors — like applying the names of nearly 450 heroes to the sides of our van — and she was there for the hardest days.

And there were hard days. Days of exhaustion, stress, sleepless nights, poor nutrition, and moments of sheer deflation. The emotional weight of the stories we carried was immense. In those low moments, one of us would invariably look up and see Anna.

We’d say, “I wonder what Anna’s day is like today.”

We’d remember she is in a trench in Ukraine, fighting for her country’s very existence against a horrific aggressor from the north.

We’d acknowledge that if she is alive, she is not having our kind of “hard day.”

Her silent, steadfast presence was the ultimate perspective check. 

Our mission was a privilege. 

Our fatigue?  A choice. 

Her fight was existential. 

So we’d suck it up, square our shoulders, and drive on to the next hero, the next story, the next town.

Anna gave us that power. 

She was more than a print; she was a silent comrade. A reminder that courage wears many faces, and that the fight for freedom — whether on a distant frontline or in the quiet act of preserving memory — is a universal thread that binds the human spirit.

We believe Anna is alive because the spirit in that portrait is too fierce, too indomitable, to be anything else. 

We are blessed, like with Lol and Paul, to have amazing friends who support us. And though we may never again see those gifted London artists who crossed our path so briefly, their contribution to our mission was immeasurable. 

They gifted us a guardian, a muse, and a silent source of strength for 27,000 miles. Let that sink in… these former convicts gifted us more than diamonds or gold, they gave us a face whom we could not let down.

Cheers to them. And to Anna, wherever she is — thank you! Your fight helped us continue ours.

To read more, visit http://www.HelpVoV.com.